He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires: As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. ...
So grieves th' adventurous merchant, when he throws All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows Into the angry main, to save from wrack Himself and men, as I grieve to give back...
Now you have freely given me leave to love, What will you do? Shall I your mirth, or passion move, When I begin to woo; Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too? ...